


Stars

by Cassiopeias_Sky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: As much fluff as I could cram in to make it better, Assault, Depiction of a mugging, Injury, Language, Reader-Insert, Really crappy summary, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9374678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiopeias_Sky/pseuds/Cassiopeias_Sky
Summary: When you get mugged and assaulted on your way home from work, it takes both of your best friends to get you back on your feet.But are both of them really 'just friends?'  Will the crappy circumstances make someone finally act on his feelings for you?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Tumblr!
> 
> Prompt: Hey Cass… So I recently got mugged (the asshole took all I had including some stuff with sentimental value AND had the nerve to assault me) and I was wondering if you could write something about that. I’m sorry if the requests are closed, I really don’t wanna bother, but I just feel like shit and completely powerless. Thank you for reading this anyway and I hope you know how much your writing makes me happy 
> 
> Nonnie, I am so incredibly sorry this happened to you. I hope this makes you feel a little better ♥ I’m also sorry about the lame title - I couldn’t come up with anything better and I wanted to get this posted for you today (((hugs)))

Carefully keeping your grandmother’s bracelet from dangling into the paint, you squeeze just a little more cyan acrylic onto your palette – you haven’t _quite_ accomplished the perfect shade of purple that you need for the shadowing on your painting. Blend...a smidgen more magenta…blend again...there. Finally satisfied with the result, you absentmindedly chew on the end of your paintbrush as you contemplate your next move.

“Hey Strawberry, can I steal some of your cadmium red? I’m all out,” asks the handsome blonde seated at the canvas next to you.

“Didn’t you just buy a ginormous tube last week? And wasn’t that the second tube this month?” You swivel in your chair to face Steve directly. “Do you _eat_ it? Does it fuel your patriotism?”

He turns to you with a sheepish smile. “I, uh, I kinda left my paints out last night…again…and Buck stepped on them. Again.” Steve pauses as you laugh. “I don’t think we’re getting our damage deposit back.”

“Steve, I think that was established months ago with the compressed charcoal incident,” you quirk your eyebrow at him as you hand him the paint, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck at the mere mention of Bucky’s name.

 

You’d met Steve a little over a year ago at an evening community ed drawing class much like this one. You needed an outlet for your emotions, and he needed normalcy after saving the world on a weekly basis. The two of you hit it off right away, and it didn’t take long for him to start acting like your older brother. When he found out that you walked to the class, he’d insisted on walking you home at night. All that time spent walking and talking had turned into a deep and abiding friendship. 

A few months later, he moved into your apartment building with Bucky – their apartment was just one floor down and two doors over from yours. Living in the tower had proven to be too much for his friend, so they opted to get an apartment close enough to the tower to be available when needed but far enough away to give Bucky the space he craved to focus on reestablishing his identity as Bucky Barnes. It surprised you that they’d want to live in your part of town, but Steve insisted that the low-profile area was exactly what they both needed to keep themselves grounded. 

Steve kept promising to introduce the two of you (he kept repeating that his two best friends should know each other) but it just hadn’t happened. When this class had started you still hadn’t met the mysterious Bucky, but Steve swore that it would happen soon because he’d convinced Bucky to take an astronomy class that was held at the same time as your painting class. You’d insisted that you didn’t want to intrude on their time so you’d be taking yourself home from here on out, but Steve firmly informed you that he still had every intention of walking you home. Besides, you lived in the same building.

You could take the man out of the 40s, but you couldn’t take the 40s out of the man.

You were sketching some ideas in your book when you heard Steve speak; he sounded concerned, so you looked up. “Over already?”

“No, but they’re going up to the telescope. Too many people in too small a space,” muttered the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in your entire life. “I’ll go up later, after everyone else leaves,” he looked down as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

You were staring. You knew you were staring but you couldn’t help it, especially when those incredibly intense blue eyes looked up and focused on yours.

You heard a snicker before the sharp elbow made contact with your ribs. “Close your mouth,” Steve hissed in your ear.

“Oh my God,” you babbled to yourself, “I’m – hi – you must be – uh hello –“

In your peripheral you could see Steve facepalm before he made the introductions for you, since you were clearly incapable of putting together an articulate sentence.

“It’s very nice to finally meet you, Bucky.” Good for you, you finally managed to get out something coherent. Fuck, even your _toes_ were blushing.

A shy smile made its way across Bucky’s face as he maintained eye contact. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said softly before he bit his lip.

Considering your blatant awkwardness during the first five minutes of your acquaintance with Bucky, it actually ended up being a pretty fantastic night. He’d stuck around to watch you and Steve finish up your painting class before deciding to make his way up to the roof to take advantage of the telescope while no one else was there. 

“Would you like to come with? I can show you some of the seasonal constellations, if you’d like.” Bucky’s voice was unsure and timid, but there was a resolve in his eyes that made you smile.

“You should!” Steve encouraged (as if you needed _any_ encouragement to gaze at the stars with Bucky). “Then you’ll have both of us to walk you home!”

“I’d love to,” was your red-faced reply. At least you didn’t stutter that time.

 

That was almost five months ago, and it had immediately become part of your weekly routine. It didn’t take long for Bucky to start joining you and Steve on your other outings, and soon the three of you were inseparable when you weren’t working and the boys weren’t training or somewhere across the world. 

The only problem (if you can call it a problem) is that you _like_ Bucky, and _not_ in the way you like Steve, which is how you find yourself blushing at the very mention of his name. And if you’re completely honest with yourself, which isn’t very often when it comes to this subject, you actually passed _like_ about a month ago. 

Steve knows, oh _God_ does Steve know, and the not-so-little shit never misses an opportunity to tease you about it; he’s actually taken to calling you ‘Strawberry’ because of how you’re perpetually blushing around Bucky. Steve used to call you ‘Doll,’ but he started using a different nickname right around the time you’d met Bucky because _he_ started calling you ‘Doll.’ That, and Steve thinks he’s funny.

“You should ask him out!” You sigh inwardly at Steve’s comment – you hear it pretty much every time you see him.

“Shut up, Steve.”

“You should! I’m telling you, Strawberry, he _really, really likes you_ , he’s just too chicken to make the first move. It’s been a while since he’s put himself out there like that, but he really does like you.” He’s enjoying this way too much.

“Well,” you begin tartly, “if Bucky is too scared to make the first move, then maybe he’s not ready to date yet, and that’s perfectly fine! I’m not going to push him, Steve, which is why the ball is in his court. The last thing I want to do is make him uncomfortable around me; his friendship means too much.”

He huffs dramatically as he squeezes some paint on his palette before returning the tube to you. He’s such a goddamn drama queen sometimes.

Your phone buzzes, and you curse as you check the display.

“What’s wrong?”

It’s your turn to huff and be dramatic. “Oh, there’s an issue at work that I need to take care of before I go home tonight. You guys are going to have to enjoy the stars without me.” You start packing up your belongings; you hate to leave in the middle of class, but the sooner you get there the sooner you can leave.

“Do you want us to come with you? We can find something to do while we wait,” he asks, ever the gentleman.

“No, I’ll be fine by myself, but thanks for the offer,” you smile as you gather your brushes.

“Hey, why don’t I take care of clean-up for you – it’ll save you a few minutes, and then you can get home earlier.” You nod your thanks at his offer, but he continues, “Strawberry, are you _sure_? It’s no problem at all for us to walk with you.”

“Steve, it’s only a ten minute walk from here, and then another ten minute walk home.” You wave away his concern as you shoulder your bag; it’s not as though you haven’t make the trip by yourself before. “Besides, Bucky loves gazing at those stars, so I don’t want to be the reason he misses this week.”

“The stars aren’t really the reason why he goes up there nowadays; there’s something _else_ he likes to gaze at,” he wiggles his eyebrows dramatically as he finishes his sentence.

Goddamn it, here you go again. Your _ears_ are burning this time.

Steve starts laughing and holds up his paintbrush, currently coated in the vibrant red he’s now using. “Hey look, it’s your face!”

You snatch the brush from his fingers and quickly smear a thick stripe across his forehead and down his nose. “Oh look,” you chirp sweetly as you give a very shocked Steve his brush back, “It’s _your_ face now, too!”

You’ve left Steve Rogers speechless – gold star for you! “Tell Buck I said hi, will you?”

Steve nods from behind the rag he’s using to clean his face. “Text me when you get home and we’ll order food. We gotta continue our Deadliest Catch marathon tonight if we want to get caught up before the next season starts.”

“Aye aye, Cap,” you salute, and you head out.

***

You sigh as you shut down your workstation for the second time today. Crisis averted…for now. You’ll deal with the rest tomorrow. Stealing a glance at the clock, you see that it’s much later than you’d thought; you’ve been here for three hours. _Oh shit._ Glancing over at your work phone tells you that you have 7 calls that were automatically routed to voicemail since it’s after hours. _Uh oh_. Pulling out your phone, you see that you have four missed calls and seven texts from Steve, and just as many from Bucky. You focus on the last two, sent just a minute or two ago and only seconds apart:

|Bucky: If I don’t hear back from you in 5, I’m coming to look for you

|Steve: WHERE ARE YOU

You quickly text them both, apologizing profusely for not answering; you’d forgotten your phone was on silent. Then:

|I’m on my way, I’ll be home in 10! It’s Chinese tonight, right? Order me some fried wontons, and then you can yell at me all you want. I’m so sorry, guys!!

Throwing on your coat, you grab your bag and shove your phone into your pocket before heading out into the night.

You’re about halfway home when you feel it; someone’s watching you. You look around, but don’t see anything out of the ordinary in the yellow glow provided by the streetlights. There are a few other people on the streets, but no one strikes you as particularly threatening. 

Still…

Should you have had Steve and Bucky come for you? No, that’s silly. You’re a grown-ass woman, pull yourself together.

Inexplicably unnerved and incredibly uneasy, you find yourself pulling out your phone to call one of them when it happens.

Hostile hands pull you into the dark space in between two closed stores and slam you violently against the brick wall. “Ouch…what…what the fuck?” you manage to get out before you take a hit to the face, causing your head to smack the brick behind you once again. Your vision explodes into thousands of white lights, and you have to concentrate to understand what your attacker is saying.

“Shut up and give me your bag!”

You blink desperately, trying to make the man in front of you come into focus, but you just can’t. 

“Give me your goddamn bag!” he starts pushing your around, trying to physically remove the bag himself. You don’t realize that you’re still holding your phone until it rings, causing you both to jump, and you swipe to answer before he can take it from you. 

“Bucky?” you find yourself crying out before the assailant hits you again and knocks the phone to the ground.

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ go for that phone,” the man growls, and he pulls a gun. _A fucking gun_.

You freeze as your breath catches in your chest – you don’t think you’ve ever been so terrified in your entire life. 

“Bag. NOW!” You jump at the harsh sound of his voice, and hastily hand over your bag. “And now the coat…that’s a good girl…” You start shivering immediately in the chilly evening air, but he doesn’t care. “And your jewelry – the thing on your wrist.”

“What?” Please, no. Not your grandmother’s bracelet…it’s the only thing you have left of her.

He raises the gun again. “Do I really need to repeat myself?”

You quickly shake your head, fumbling at the clasp to remove it before he hits you again. He rips it out of your hand, swoops down to snatch your phone, and then he’s gone.

Breathing unevenly, you lean back against the brick before looking around the dark area. Is it safe to leave? Is the man just around the corner, waiting to hurt you again? Is it really over? You gingerly put your fingers to your face…fucking ow…and then to the back of your head. Dammit, you’re going to need medical attention. You know you need to move – you need to do _something_ – but you’re rooted in place by fear and pain.

Then you hear it; the sound of running footsteps and your name being yelled frantically by the two people you’ve come to trust most in this world. 

You can move now – they’re your safety.

You take a deep breath before pushing yourself off the wall, walking back out to the street and under the artificial lights of the lamps. Bucky nearly collides with you before he sees you.

“Oh God, Doll, what happened?” He pulls you close, and you can’t stop the tears from coming. “Hey, we’re here now, you’re safe, you’re safe,” he soothes as he gently rubs your back. They obviously got your call and got there as quickly as possible – Bucky didn’t even pause to grab a coat.

There’s a set of gentle hands at the back of your head – Steve. “Buck, we need to get her to the hospital.” A brief pause, and then, “Tony, we found her, she was attacked and mugged…yeah, we need a car…okay, let me know what you find.”

“Steve, hand me your sweatshirt,” Bucky murmurs over your head, and a few moments later something warm is draped over your shoulders.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you walk alone.” You don’t have to look to know he’s running his fingers through his short blond hair.

“Steve, it’s not your fault,” you mutter into the crook of Bucky’s neck. 

He just puts his hand on your shoulder as the three of you wait for a ride.

***

As far as hospital visits go, it could have been worse. Apparently arriving with two of the Avengers gets you star treatment, especially if Tony Stark calls ahead. You haven’t met the guy, but he seems nice enough.

One concussion, a black eye, a split lip, and 15 stitches to the back of your head later, you can finally head home. Neither Steve nor Bucky left your side through the whole ordeal, which is probably the only reason why you don’t combust into a teary, hysterical mess when the police arrived to take your statement. You actually do fairly well, until you get to the part where the bastard took your grandmother’s bracelet. A new bag and coat can be purchased, more money can be earned, and credit cards can be frozen, but that bracelet is irreplaceable.

You’re not so sure you’ll ever get your confident independence back, either. Helplessness isn’t a feeling you enjoy, but it’s currently swallowing you whole.

At least the doctors don’t admit you – you really just want to go home.

“Alright, Doll,” Bucky begins as he leads you through the front door of your apartment building, “we can stay with you or you can stay with us; your choice.”

“I’ll be fine, Buck.” You hate the sound of your voice, so small and weak, and God, you _hate_ accepting help from others.

“Nope, the doc said you need someone with you for the next 24 hours,” Steve reminds you, “so you’re stuck with us, Strawberry. So…your apartment or ours?”

It’s a losing battle, and you know this. Besides, you really don’t have the ambition to argue. “Yours, I guess, that way you guys can sleep in your own beds and I’ll just take the couch.” You purposely ignore the set of matching snorts – apparently one of them will be giving you a bed and taking the couch. “Let’s just stop at mine first so I can shower and get ready for bed.”

Thank God you’d given them a spare key to your apartment, or your day would have just gotten considerably worse. 

“Alright Doll, Steve’s going to run to the supermarket for some frozen pizzas since the restaurants are all closed. I’ll feed your cat while you’re in the shower, and then I’ll text your boss to let her know what’s going on, that you won’t be in tomorrow, and that you don’t have your cell. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, I should be good. Thanks Buck.” You offer a weak smile that’s more of a grimace as you go into your bedroom to gather some comfortable clothes.

Showering helps, to a point. The back of your head is too tender to wash your hair, so that sucks, but at least the rest of you is clean. Standing in front of the mirror after dressing, you see for the first time how bad you really look. Without any makeup to hide the blooming discoloration, you can clearly see where you’ve been hit. That fucker really did a number on you.

You don’t exactly know when the tears started to fall, but your cheeks are wet and it’s becoming harder to breathe so you lean your back against the wall. Your next breath comes out as a sob before you slowly sink to the floor.

The insistent knocking you hear makes its way through your consciousness only a moment or two before the door opens.

“I’m sorry for barging in, Doll, but are you -” Bucky stops short when he sees you curled into a ball on the floor. “Hey, come here,” he whispers as he sits next to you and pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around you. “Shhh…it’s gonna be okay…you’re okay, you’re safe, it’s gonna be okay,” he soothes as he slowly rocks you back and forth.

“Will it, though? He didn’t just take material possessions from me,” you sniff. 

“I know, but Stevie and I will help you get it back, okay?” Of course Bucky knows _exactly_ what you’re talking about – you don’t need to spell it out for him. He gently pulls back from you, tilting your head towards his. “I know what’s like to feel helpless and hurt, to feel like you have no control.” 

You nod – you know he does. 

“But I also know that you can heal, and that you can rebuild. It’ll take a while, but you’ll get there.”

You nod again, and take his word for it. Bucky knows exactly what it takes to get better – he works on it every day – so if he says you can get better, then you can. Simple as that. God, you don’t know what you did to deserve these guys, but you’re incredibly thankful for their friendship.

“Thanks, Bucky.” You wipe your tears away, press a kiss to his cheek, and smile a genuine smile for the first time since you left your painting class. “You’re amazing.”

Is…is he _blushing_?

“We, uh, we should get downstairs before Steve burns the place down. He damn near succeeded the last time we had frozen pizzas.”

You reluctantly pull yourself away from his hold. “You replaced the kitchen fire extinguisher, right?”

Bucky rolls his eyes as he stands in a single fluid motion and then helps you up. “Yeah, for the _third_ time. There’s no way we’re getting our damage deposit back.”

You laugh, and it feels good. “I think that’s already been firmly established, Buck.”

You run into your bedroom to grab your pillow, and join him at the door to go downstairs to his apartment.

It’s a good thing you left when you did. You notice immediately when you enter their apartment that something smells slightly off.

Bucky makes a beeline for the oven. “Shit! He did it again!” he calls out, and you quickly grab a pan for Bucky to slide the pizza out on. 

Steve walks into the kitchen at that moment, and looks between you and Bucky with a confused look on his face. “What?”

“Steve! How the hell do you manage to save the world on a regular basis when you need Bucky to save you from yourself every damn day?!” Seriously, you want to know.

“What do you mean?” he asks – you cannot figure out how, but he’s genuinely confused. Blond roots run deep in this man.

“Goddamn it Steve, don’t act like you don’t know! How many times do I have to tell you that you have to _remove the cardboard from the pizzas_?” Bucky is livid.

At least Steve now has the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry Buck. At least you caught it on time.” 

The last part of his comment earns another glare from Bucky, which sends you into a fit of giggles. They don’t seem to mind, though. In fact, they both seem pretty happy to see you laughing.

***

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you obviously did because you’re being gently woken by Bucky.

“Hey Doll, just checking on you. Are you feeling okay?” he whispers into the darkness.

Oh, right – the doctor said you needed to have someone wake you every two to three hours for the next day because of your concussion.

“Yeah, Buck, think ’m okay.” Your voice is thick with sleep, and he chuckles.

“Alright, go back to sleep.” He snugs the covers tighter around your shoulders, and then you dream of him kissing the top of your head before he leaves the room.

You wake only marginally more the next time he comes in; enough to register that you’re in his room and in his bed. When did that happen? You’re too sleepy to think too much about it, though, so you drift off to the smell of him in the sheets.

The last and final time you wake it’s from the sunlight coming in through the cracks in the shades. You roll onto your back and stretch, wincing as the back of your head rubs into the pillow. Damn, that still hurts. Opening your eyes isn’t a treat either because the bright sunlight stabs into your brain. Ugh.

It’s tempting to stay in bed a little longer but you don’t want to displace Bucky any more than you already have, so you force yourself to get up and go into the living room. You’ll just wake Bucky and tell him to go to bed, and then you’ll take the couch for the rest of the morning. You stop short at the sight of Bucky sleeping with his face buried in your pillow because it makes your heart clench; God, you care about him _so damn much_ but are too afraid to lose him to actually do anything about your feelings. You’d enter a romantic relationship with him in a heartbeat, but it needs to be within his timing, not yours. You will not push.

Too awake at this point to go back to sleep and unwilling to wake him since he seems so peaceful (your mind’s running at full speed now, and your thoughts of Bucky do NOT need to be compounded by going back to his bed), you decide to make breakfast. It’s the least you can do for them after everything they did for you yesterday, and you know very well how they both feel about waffles. You have to run to your apartment for a few of the ingredients, but return before anyone wakes up.

You’ve got coffee started, sausage sizzling on the stove, and most of the waffles done when Bucky comes stumbling into the kitchen. “Just when I thought I couldn’t love you any more, you go and make waffles.”

You were in the middle of spooning more batter onto the waffle iron (the one they’d purchased when they learned that you knew how to make homemade waffles) when he speaks, and you freeze at his words. Were you supposed to hear that? Although you’ve known Bucky to be a pretty physically affectionate friend (Steve warned you that if Bucky ever got comfortable with you, that he might get kinda touchy-feely from being what his shrink referred to as ‘touch starved.” It took a while, but he totally did), he wasn’t one to say overly affectionate statements with the single exception of your nickname. “I…you…wait, what?” you turn around, completely taken aback.

He blushes a furious shade of red, but doesn’t stutter or avoid eye contact when he quietly answers, “I think you heard me, Doll.”

_Of course_ Steve chooses that particular moment to waltz into the kitchen. “Okay, not that I’m complaining, because I _love_ your waffles, but why is the concussed one making breakfast?”

“Well I couldn’t just stay in Bucky’s bed all day, could I?” you squeak as you turn back to the waffle batter and iron. You could have, oh, you totally could have, especially if he joined you but that’s not the point and someone please say something because this silence is so awkward and you really just want to ask Bucky what he meant and if he really meant it and what does it mean and oh GOD your mental commentary really needs to STOP. Gee, you’re not flustered at all, are you?

It suddenly occurs to you that it’s too quiet. You narrow your eyes as your hands pause over the waffle iron - you can just _tell_ that they’re doing their silent communication thing behind your back. 

“Well, I think I’m going to shower before breakfast.” Steve’s announcement is unnecessarily loud and his exit is painfully conspicuous. 

Swallowing hard, you move to the stove to turn the sausages – you’re not Steve, you don’t burn things on a regular basis no matter how distracted you are. Once that’s done, you have nothing else to do until the currently cooking waffle is done. There’s at least two minutes left. Two…long…minutes…

You jump a bit at the feel of gentle hands on your head; the soft chuckle by your ear tells you exactly how close Bucky is to you.

“Sorry Doll, I just want to take a quick look at your stitches.”

You stand patiently while he examines the back of your head…wait…did he just drop a kiss into your hair? When you feel his hands on your shoulders, you turn immediately in response to his unspoken request. 

Once you’re facing him, Bucky gently brushes your hair from your face and tilts you toward the light so he can look at your eye and lip. The way his thumbs are running along your lower lip and your cheek are incredibly distracting; this man will be the death of you and he doesn’t even know it. Does he? 

“You’re gonna be black and blue for a while, and I think the swelling will probably peak sometime today, but you should heal up just fine.”

You smile at his tender touch; you know this side of Bucky Barnes quite well, so much so that sometimes you forget that most of the world only sees a deadly former assassin. 

“I have something for you!” He rushes off.

That was…random.

You turn back to the food, removing the sausages from the heat and taking out the latest waffle before refilling the iron. 

His hurried footsteps let you know he’s coming back – he must be really excited about something, because he hardly ever makes noise when he moves.

“Okay, I know this doesn’t replace what was stolen from you, and that wasn’t my intent, I actually bought this about a month ago. But maybe…I don’t know…just…here.” He all but shoves a small box into your hands. Bucky isn’t always a man of many words, but he isn’t generally awkward; that’s usually _your_ specialty. 

You stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. It’s not your birthday, it isn’t Christmas or any other holiday…

“JUST OPEN THE BOX ALREADY AND PUT HIM OUT OF HIS MISERY!” 

“SHUT UP, STEVE!” you and Bucky yell at the same time.

A long moment passes as you and Bucky stare at each other before he finally gestures at the box. “Please open it.”

“Sorry!” You open the box, and your eyes grow wide at the sight of the lovely silver bracelet resting inside. It’s got three charms – not the kind that dangle but rather the kind that fits around the chain. All three silver charms are star shaped with a star shaped crystal embedded in one side; two of them are a rich, vibrant purple, and the stone in the center charm is clear. “Bucky,” you breathe, “it’s _beautiful_.” And _perfect_. The darker stones are your favorite shade of purple, and you generally only wear silver jewelry. Buy why is he doing this?

You look up at him to find him staring at you apprehensively. “Flip over the two purple stars,” he chokes out; the words are barely more than a whisper.

You turn the first one, and bring it closer so you can read the tiny words etched on the back.

_I wished_

Taking a shaky breath after glancing at Bucky, you turn the second.

_You appeared_

“I, uh, I’ve been trying to give you this for a while, but I just couldn’t work up the nerve. Last night was a kick in the ass,” Bucky pauses to swallow and run his fingers through his hair before he takes one of your hands in both of his. “I could have lost you, Doll. Things could have been much worse, and I would have wasted all this time. So what I’m trying to say is, will you be my girl?”

A painfully wide smile plasters itself across your face. Well, what do you know, _Steve was right_.

Words have escaped you, so you just look up at him and nod.

“Yeah?” He sounds so hopefully incredulous that you can’t help but giggle.

“Yeah.” There might have been more for you to say, but you don’t get the chance because he softly presses his lips to yours, careful to not press against the cut in your lip.

“It’s about damn time,” Steve mutters as he walks into the kitchen. He removes the burning waffle from the iron, grabs some sausage and the syrup, and takes his breakfast out to the living room.

Bucky breaks the kiss so he can clasp the bracelet around your wrist. 

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“For what? Was the kiss that good?” he smirks; confident Bucky is back in full force.

“Well, that too, but also for the bracelet, and for being here for me. I don’t think I could have gotten through last night without you.” Your voice catches on the last part, and he pulls you into a gentle hug.

“Well, you’ll never have to know. I’ll always be here for you, Doll. We’re gonna get you through this.”

Yeah. It might take a while, but you’re going to be just fine.


End file.
